Parky's ideas were from the UK Government having killers and what do you do with them? and I know it needs a rewrite

Parky was my first attempt to darken my toes into the dirty depths of writing.

Something from Parky's Lunch.

Dave

Boy wandered down to his berth and soon was dreaming of eggs and bacon, ordering a ‘double egg, double soss, bacon, chips and beans with 2 slices and a pint mug of tea and he could just see the eggs, top side up, golden yellow, the beans on his toast, tasting the bacon as it crunched, swilled down with great gulps of tea, but no sooner was he asking for his second helping, he suddenly found himself awake and Mr Hoo at his bedside.

“Later, Mr Hoo,” he said, “I haven’t ordered seconds!”

Mr Hoo, who was now shouting, said, “you changed the name of the boat for your people in Tangier. The Moroccan Security are looking for ‘Lady Joon Wong’, not ‘Sam Buck Who’ … no such boat exists as the ‘Lady Joon Wong’. The boat is registered as ‘The Sam Buck Who’, you idiot, we don’t have a problem getting into Casablanca!”

“I didn’t know we had a problem getting into Casablanca. You are too glib on this, Mr Hoo. Where do we head for, apart from my sleep’s second course?”

“We head for Mohammedia, Boy. I’ve been saying Casablanca. There is something wrong and my people are backing off like someone has got at them. I am telling Langley, one story and the local guys another. The local guys wont check with Langley and if anyone in Langley is leaking, then we will be expected in Casablanca but everyone seems to know where we are all the time and it is being passed to the Moroccans. I don’t know how but at least you have confused them with the name. We’ll aim like we are going into Casablanca as the ‘Lady Joon Wong’ but ‘The Sam Buck Who’ will go into Mohammedia instead. We can dock at the fishing jetty.”

We arrived at Mohammedia and the Pilot’s first question was, “why have you stopped here?”

“We have used our fuel up because of bad winds, currents and we are now low on fuel,” said Mr Hoo.

The Pilot smiled and said, “we received a warning about a vessel looking like yours called ‘The Lady Joon Wong’ and now you turn up here with a different name but of course with this registered boat! My job is to berth your boat and I don’t really care for the Security Services but use my Cousins for the fuel you require as they are reliable and both will heavily overcharge you but those are the ways of the world and I see Mr Hoo, that you wish to thank me for Piloting you here with a small token of gratitude but I would advise you I can only delay notification of your boat due to pressure of work until my prayers tomorrow evening, and please be aware when my Cousins start their work that they will want dollars as I do since I see them even now approaching to meet your needs. I will leave and remain quiet … until my prayers tomorrow evening! Understood?”

As we watched the Pilot leave we saw his cousins manhandling trolleys containing 10 five gallon fuel containers and dumping them on the deck. Mr Hoo who seemed to have expected this, was already laying ropes down hatches until Benny who was very protective about the engines elbowed him aside and took over the fuel loads.

“Why were they Cousins?” I asked Mr Hoo, “and how did they know our requirements?”

“Boy, you ask the silliest questions at times. People do keep fuel for boats which they don’t use, and they know we are paying dollars, with a known boat we are very vulnerable and will not object to being robbed blind which is another reason why you are all carrying guns in closed holsters, another reason why we will be hunted down as we move West. We have some fuel for which we are paying a fortune with our Pilot friend waiting for his prayers to be answered tomorrow which they will be and hopefully we have confused a few people, so we can get out of Moroccan waters!”

“We’ll leave at dawn tomorrow, Boy. Irish and Benny will watch the jetty tonight and sleep tomorrow. The Major is staying up as well, to keep an eye on them, so you and I can get our heads down as no-one has anywhere to go nor anyone they can sell us to without dying painfully and it does show trust for when we can’t afford to trust them.”

“Next place we can get fuel is Fuerteventura in the Canary Isles, a small Port called Puerto del Rossario. I’ve punched in the co-ordinates for our GPS. We can just get there, park up and rest and there is nothing but a small town at the end of the jetty which is the capital of the island. We need the watches to be standard, so 6 hours on, 6 off. Myself, you or the Major need to be around at all times … Irish, Benny and Scooter can match us so we always work ‘one on one’. I think that covers it and time for my bunk.”

“What do you mean, they didn’t go into Casablanca,” the EU and Africa Minister said to his Aide, “I told my contacts they had to go into Casablanca, the French were waiting with an International Warrant to take them, and instead they’ve headed into Spanish waters!”

“As soon as we know where they are, their direction, we will intercept them again, Sir.”

“Intercept them with what, I ask? There are, no other Naval ships in the area. The next place with any Navy, is Senegal and they are not even heading there.”

“We will keep monitoring the situation, Sir and we will get them!”

After 5 days, we eventually made Fuerteventura and headed West into the basin the fishing boats left alone. We’d had boats following us after we left Mohammedia but our standard procedure of altering course to see if they still followed us an hour later, and at which point we stopped, giving Irish his prize toy and once they felt a laser beam flickering over the steering wheel at a 1000 yards, the message was loud, clear and if ignored, Irish would in his careful way, let them come close enough to put some rounds into the rear of the boat for a very peaceful trip, although we were becoming nervous as Benny was topping up every 3 or 4 hours, to cover 50 miles, before we needed another two jerry-cans and I asked Mr Hoo, “how much are the engines were actually using?”

Mr Hoo smiled his usual inscrutable smile, “the boat was never designed for long-distance as the idea is to cruise at sail speeds and only use fuel to attack a target. The engines had never been used ‘long-distance’ and we are running them close to their top levels since we have never serviced them in years and we need to get Benny looking at that, some time, but we are using up fuel at a level that will get us to Fuerteventura and I have already arranged for someone to service the engines there and refill some 50 jerry-cans with 250 gallons of fuel plus topping up the engine tanks which would normally only cost us about $500, but if we get away with less than $1000, I will be surprised.”

We arrived, and with the same quiet efficiency seen in Mohammedia, we saw a small tanker arriving and we unloaded the empty jerry-cans ready for filling. Mr Hoo had raided the safe and was carrying about ￡2000 so Irish and Benny went with him as they walked down the jetty into town. By the time we had finished, Mr Hoo was back and had decided our next stop was Pointe Mouette, with berths for tankers, to hide behind and be out before anyone realised we have arrived.

Our problems were the wrecks, fishing boats blocking the harbour without lights, and we needed to get in close because of the trade winds sweeping in the sand so you’re blind, joining the swell fighting against the Trade Winds in October, which meant heavy fuel usage to get anywhere.

“What about Dakar, Mr Hoo?”

“Do you know anything about Dakar, Boy?”

“They run a rally there, so they should have access to fuel and there is a large deep freeze store in town!”

“You win Boy, we head for Dakar … it is about 500 miles, which should leave us about 50 gallons left, likely to be attacked, so someone at the prow at all times and yes Irish, you can wear holsters!”

“We’ll need to watch for the harmatten winds as we come in, reduced visibility but we can take our time so let Irish do some weapons training as he keeps treating those as his private collection and I don’t want you guys killing each other in Dakar. We aim for mole 10 which is the Fishing Pier. Senegal is French controlled with bases and ships so as quick as a ‘cat’s lick’ with the empties on the deck before we dock. We aim to be in about ? hour after dusk and my local guys are pulling a lot of favours for this as they can’t be seen near us. We are already down to ￡5000 and 6000 francs and this fuel is costing $20 a gallon instead of $9 and just our standard containers have wiped out ￡2000 … the other 50 gallons and we top up the engines first! The francs only equate to about $900, so we are short-changed to go with the short-measure, so it balances. Now is a good time, if any of you have any cash?”

“As one we are looked at the Major,” he said, “I was told there was a $10,000 donation in the forward locker of the ‘V’ from the previous owner. You have the keys in the safe and changed the combination but that is the last of any cash I know of. The cards are cancelled and I would be lynched, if I’d tried anything.”

“Thanks Major,” said Mr Hoo, “check the ‘V’ for the money, Irish and put it in the safe, if you find it. We still have 500 miles at least to reach Dakar and there will be some other deliveries waiting when we do arrive, but right now I need you guys to spend time with Irish on those weapons because life is going to get really dangerous. Benny reckons we will go through another 100 gallons of fuel but he also thinks that we are using up the freezer too quickly and I want that filled in Dakar as well.”

Benny did actually think that every port in West Africa had a freezer department but at some point we would need to start cooking instead of a Microwave. I looked at Benny’s face when the freezer comment was made as he was worse than Mr Hoo albeit on the frozen pasta, “Benny there is a company in Dakar, called ‘CDA’ and we have placed a bulk order for delivery when we get there so stop looking so miserable but we have to move fast when we get there. If the French get us, we wont be going anywhere and you don’t like French cooking.”

Mr Hoo, who looked at our faces, chipped in with, “Chicken Breasts, Legs, Sole Fillets, Ground Beef, Chipolata Sausages, Bacon and I am sure we can throw Pork and Cheese in somewhere with pastry. Everything is cash only and I don’t want mistakes! 3 of us in every meeting where there is money carried.”

“We are 500 mile from Dakar, worrying about the Freezers so I want to start worrying about weapons. We have one MG4 light machine gun, one M27 automatic rifle, one G36 assault rifle and five USP hand guns plus a Beretta M9 which is mine. The MG4 is Irish, M27 is Benny, Boy the G36 and all of you USPs. Why different weapons, is because that is what they gave us, but Irish is the only trained effective marksmen we have, Benny needs the gun with a rest, so he use it without shooting us … and Boy needs the magnification to see what he is doing and the G36 has a reflex sight as opposed to Benny’s iron sights.”

“Boy and Irish will start of the watch when we get out of harbour in about a week. It is a straight run so don’t kill anyone until we are out of this, get down to Senegal and then we have enough trouble to keep us all happy.” Some days later we were just turning past Cap Timris, when we saw a Patrol Vessel, out of the blue start shooting at us. Mr Hoo almost wrecked himself knocking Irish down before he could get his weapon out with him rushing into the cabin and we heard the engines roar as the boat lifted and we were leaving the Patrol Vessel drifting behind as we moved off but still following us, “Irish can you set a RPG to explode in the air, only I would like some display of fire power that does not threaten them?”

“I’d like them closer for the MG4 laser to concentrate their minds,” said Irish.

“I’ll slow the engine and put the hydrofoils up. Try not to hit anyone!”

With the engine slowed down, like we were in trouble and the gun on it’s tripod, Irish lay down watching the little red light run up and down the boat, until he slowly pressed the trigger. We couldn’t really see from this distance, but the boat quickly moved to Port with the rear of vessel towards us. Mr Hoo pushed the engines on full with us and the boat rising up and accelerating, while the pursuers made no attempt to turn and follow us as Irish’s ploy worked and we kept travelling for another half hour before Mr Hoo shut us down and said, “we will be using sails for a while.”

The phone rang in the Defence Minister’s office, “Roger, a pleasure to hear from you.”

“It wont be a pleasure for much longer, Algenald, we are loosing us a lot of money … take action or we will!”

“Everything is in hand Roger. There is an International Warrant out for these guys for arms dealing and the French Navy has ships at Dakar, who can get them.”

“What! You have put out an International Warrant for arms dealing, you bloody fool. Do you think we want people looking for arms dealers … what the bloody hell do you think you are doing? Why don’t you post our names up, as well? Cancel the warrant, say it is a mistake, it should have been for piracy … you’ve got enough evidence of them shooting up Naval Ships. All that evidence and you go for arms dealing. I wonder why we even bothered with you!”

The phone went down as the red in Algenald’s face went up, but before he could shout for his Aide the phone rang again.

“Hello, Minister here.”

“Hello Algenald, I’ve just had my French connection on the phone and apparently these guys have just shot up another Patrol boat, off the coast of Mauritania.”

“Yes I’d heard. My informants tell me they are on the way from the Canary Isles where they sneaked in and out before anyone realised, and are now fuelled up again, which gives them a range of about Dakar as I can’t see them putting into Nouakchott after the number of Mauritanian Patrol Boats they have fired on. The French have ships at Dakar and we should be able to get them there. Someone has pointed out to me that with the attitude to arms dealers in the area, it might be better to get the International Warrant re-issued for Piracy, since any Naval ship can then arrest them and I will be doing this immediately, Jacob.”

It was dark and quiet when we passed some 20 mile off Nouakchott and picked up a boat tracking us back about 2 miles, with our front and side radars picking up we had 5 boats in total around shadowing us.

Mr Hoo said, “it looks like trouble, we need to go further out to sea.”

“Let them come close and use the RPGs on them,” said Irish.

“I think we head right, and you can use your RPGs if you need to …. could be a trap or just shadowing, radioing ahead to Dakar with us on the menu. We can take the right hand front vessel but I want another mile between all but the two on the right, using hydrofoils to drop off the rest so we can shut down and wait. We are not in place to start fighting battles, especially when surrounded and outnumbered but breaking out quickly before they suspect anything, we can shut down all power and lose them. We head straight for the boat to the right in front and destroy it if we have to, but get those sails up!”

We felt the engines cut in and the boat start to rise, turning to starboard as we accelerated.

“Major, on the radar,” Can you see what are they doing?”

“The ones closest to the coast are not moving, the ones behind are dropping back … the one in front right is towards us.”

“Now cut the engines, raise the foils, shut down all power and wait.”

“No noise. The radar and GPS are shut down … no electric emissions and bare feet.”

Irish slowly lowered the three automated rifles onto the table. Courtesy of Irish we knew about the safety and looking down sights. Benny took Starboard side, I took Port, the Major and Mr Hoo took beam and Irish took Aft. We could hear the engine noise as they came closer … the 2nd at Port, very clearly, and they seemed to be yards away from us, but still moving. The engine noises louder and then slowly dying away.

The sails were dropped and we saw Mr Hoo adjust the sail position. Mr Hoo looked at my face and laughed, “There is a gauge and once the sails are down I swing them left or right until a meter gives the best reading according to GPS. Yes I can set them from here, but I don’t want you guys messing about with these controls because you might hit the wrong buttons, and it is good exercise with fresh air. If you want to take over the helm, I’ll grab some sleep and see you about 6 am.”

We came into Dakar around dusk that day, aiming for the North Jetty West Face. We had documents and cash checked before being very swiftly cleared, especially of the cash as the petrol tanker arrived to fill up our jerry-cans. A customs inspector seemed very curious about our freezers until Mr Hoo explained with some demonstrations of his art. With the fuel, water loaded, I had no idea of time until about 4 hours later as we watched for the guys coming back.

It was about 6 hours later, when 3 taxis drove up with plastic bags of stuff. Leaving Scooter to watch them, we started loading up and if that wasn’t enough, we had put our holsters back on, which had the taxi drivers pointing and jabbering at Mr Hoo, who started waving French francs around until they calmed down and we finished the loading. As they took off, so did we, moving the boat slowly away to the East aiming for the entrance channel South West to that. Once out, we opened up to 15 knots and we were out. At least October was outside of the rainy and tornado season this far down, but other troubles?

Mr Hoo normally full of smiles, seemed more morose than ever with his up and down character breaking out again. You honestly never knew where you stood with him as he switched emotions, moods, brain and drive in seconds and now he was off again, “We are stocked up for 6 months, providing we don’t need any more fuel or supplies. The next service area is where we are finally going to be anyway. We have 17 days sailing to put us some 200 miles off the coast for the final turn. Short of an emergency, we don’t touch Freetown, keep our head’s down and stay well away from anyone. With fresh meat, fish and eggs tonight, dinner is ‘hot and sour soup’, ‘egg foo yung’ and ''ho fun Singapore style, so if the Boy will take over I will start the cooking. Perhaps another night Benny will produce some Italian food and the rest of you can use the Internet for your recipes, so we get some variety. We probably have a fortnight to kill until we reach Monrovia, so I am looking to all of you to take this chance to cheer up the rest of us with some good food, and we will also want to invent some games to keep us interested. There are also some fishing rods in storage, so we can see about some fresh fish, but you clean what you catch and anyone throwing stuff back we could eat, cleans everyone elses.”

The next fortnight seemed to pass in years, as for once we just slowly sailed in peace at about 12 knots with the engine brought in to maintain the average. Each night someone would plan out a meal usually stolen out of the freezer and the Internet, but we picked flotsam as it passed and tying it behind the boat gave ourselves a chance to improve our accuracy with the guns.

Mr Hoo who did know martial arts with his other skills, started us on exercises and even the Major and Scooter weren’t excused swinging sidekicks, throwing punches and doing exercises that had us aching to start with and then we found ourselves getting more flexible, thinking about where we were, as someone aimed a blow and starting to feel more confident in ourselves but the major change was on Irish who was a different man in every way. Confident, assured and believing in himself as if we had unwrapped a wreck of himself and restored it.

Dusk was just falling some 200 mile off the coast and also about 200 mile from Sherbro Island, when we saw some large fishing boats plus motor boats heading towards us from the Sherbro Island direction for what looked like another attack and a professional one this time.

“Mr Hoo! How do these boats know where we are? It’s nearly dusk and will be bloody dark quite soon.”

One look at Mr Hoo’s face and I realised that he was blown as well and they were waiting for us. Where we going, what we were doing and probably when we were doing it, had been passed on and it could only have come from one source … CIA.

Irish was already heading to the rear storage.

They had crept up under cover of darkness and Irish was now throwing RPGs to Mr Hoo, Scooter and the Major, who were stuffing rockets into them and running into position on the Starboard side of the main deck, while Irish, Benny and myself were clapping magazines into our automatic weapons. They were only about 600 yards away, when they opened fire with the AK 47s and Mr Hoo shouted to the RPG guys to lie flat until they got closer.

Irish who had stayed aft was already spraying bursts of fire towards the boats and Benny and I joined in.

We still had sails down and Mr Hoo hit the buttons to take the sails up to give us some stability and as the sails started to rise, we both loosed off more bursts at the boats coming in.

The Major fired off his RPG on it’s defaults settings which whizzed over the heads of the boats coming in. It looked very much like someone had forgotten to tell them we were armed as they still weren’t within real accurate range from their point and we had cover, something to rest the automatics on and were about to fire.

We saw the nearest boats start to head away as the Major and Scooter finally got a grip on the RPGs and Irish was embroidering tattoos on the boats and I think the crews, as an RPG, hit the main boat and exploded, were getting a little unhappy. After this the whole bunch were turning and Mr Hoo cut in the engines and we took off.

We finally slowed down about 20 minutes later with Mr Hoo still looking like someone had been stealing his coffee, “No-one could have known exactly where we would be at dusk some 200 mile off the coast of West Africa,” he shouted!

The first thing that crossed our minds were the cables for the GPS as we knew there was a satellite link. Mr Hoo took the cover off the GPS feed with connections leading down from the mid section of the box.

One lead to a USB plug into the computer network, the second to the satellite roof socket and a third under the floor, which it shouldn’t do. We removed the hatch from the cabin and Mr Hoo climbed down, with myself. The small duct and cable was easy to see but unless you knew what you were looking for, easy to miss. The GPS should only have two connections … 1 for the satellites and 1 for the Network, there should not be a connection going down into the boat and then it clicked, “I think Mr Hoo, that if you follow that lead you are going to find it plugs into the TV Satellite Connection and from there it passes our position back using the same technology we are using to download TV programs, but it is sending a signal back amongst the others.

Your own people don’t trust us.

I think we terminate this extra Satellite link from the TV!”

“I think it would be easier Boy, if we just cut the connect and masked it. That way the guys can still get satellite TV, but one way.”

“Sound fine by me, although we don’t know who else will be waiting for us now, as they know where we are going, but we don’t need fuel so we change direction and we don’t need to be where they expect us … Grand Bassam seems a good site and out of the way, the way this is going!”

Mr Hoo however decided Monrovia was the place to aim for and then to avoid, as he could not make his mind up and we ending up staying 200 mile off the coast all the way down to Buchanan and Greenville then moving further off the coast by another 100 miles so we were well away from any traffic.

We didn’t in the end, move in until after Cape Palmas so with luck we would lose anyone shadowing us, as Mr Hoo had lost us, with his final statement, “We go to Abidjan, then to Grand Bassam. It is not just Grand Bassam we are interested in but the coast a bit further up and the lagoons around Grand Bassam. You will be moving around the lagoons and are based off the old pier. There are two petrol stations and a Carrefour in Grand Bassam.”

“Mr Hoo, we are still 300 mile away in Atlantic surf with massive swells and tides that will smash us if we get if we get in too close, how do we find this spot and when do we go over the sand bar?”

“Boy … don’t you listen? We are going to Abidjan to pick up the Visas. Grand Bassam and the Atlantic are for later. We will be out of the swells but this boat has foils we let down for stability.”

“Sorry Mr Hoo, I must have fallen asleep with your words and dreams of sand.”

“Now I have an opportunity for the sandman, Boy, so if you have woken up … the helm is yours. Irish will work with you as usual. It will take us about another 60 hours to reach Abidjan, so we’ll stay 6 on 6 off until we hit the Vridi Canal, and I want the sails checked on the hour!”

Vridi Canal was choppy water, oil tanker berths, ‘ro-ro’ and fishing quays until you passed under the Boulevard de Gaulle and into the Ebrie Lagoon. A launch suddenly appeared from the Biafra area and flagged us to a small Isle just off ‘Isle Desiree’, where we cut the engines, lowered the foils and waited. The boat which seemed like it was hired, came alongside and we roped the boats together, moving the boxes on-board while more bags were thrown onto us.

After a couple of hours we moved on, passing Abra down the deeper routes to Grand Bassam, eventually coming out by the Morin and into the Comoe.

From there down to Moossou near Bouet and finally to the pier near Assoyam, where we could drop anchor knowing good depth existed.

Irish and Benny worked on the boxes while the contents went straight into the freezers, stocking us up on frozen burgers and coffee that Mr Hoo could microwave.

There was also another MG4, M27 and Mr Hoo told Irish to train me on the MG4. The M27 went to Mr Hoo and my G36 went to Scooter. We had no intention of deliberately letting the Major have an automatic gun besides the pistol but Mr Hoo had another box, and from this he produced X3 tasers and what looked liked jungle knives.

Major accepted me as Mr Hoo’s No.2 but the Major knew his time with the Brits was gone and so was he.

We still had to find these Pirates and put them out of business but we never thought that the Pirates would know where to ‘pay us’ the compliment of a visit before we could ‘warmly shake them by the throat’ and that was what happened.

“Mr Hoo and I did our 6 hours on and he called a crew meeting to say he was changing the crew routines with the Major became the third cabin guy with one other on watch. The Major’s crew would be Benny, mine would be Irish and Mr Hoo would take Scooter but we would carry the knives and tasers at all times as standard.”

“Mr Hoo started to go through potential target areas used by the Pirates. The Vitre Isle dwarfing Morin was too far away, so we would just check out Bouet and take a break while the crew were welcome to go ashore, but no trouble. We would need some stuff from Carrefour and once we checked fuel there were a couple of Petrol Stations we could use. There would be alcohol on board for those not on watch but no abusing it or the lot would go over the side … all standard stuff.”

“Just the one question, Mr Hoo,” said Irish, “What force can we use if they start firing at us?”

“Irish. We are primarily targeted at disrupting their camps and activities. If they don’t start firing, then you don’t … if they do, return their fire until they stop. We are not taking prisoners which does not mean kill them, just taser them. We just want them to have their plans, camps disrupted and small boats sunk … the bigger ones if we can, but the small ones and people are the target. What we don’t have is permission to do, is disrupt any hijacking of the tankers or do anything in public that gets our big faces across the news. Our business is the guys on-shore and guys we do it quietly.”

The phone rang in the Defence Minister’s office, “Simon, Sir, can you spare a moment?”

“I can give you five minutes, Simon … I need to be off after that!”

Simon came into the office, “Our guy in Abidjan was monitoring the CIA there. He saw the team meet near the Biafra area of Abidjan and the CIA transferred cases over. He watched them move down to Grand Bassam and berth just off the old pier. They don’t known we have found them and think they are safe.”

“What was in the boxes?”

“We don’t know”

“Thank you for the update, Simon.”

Simon left, and the Minister rang Roger Turner, “Roger, Algenald Matthews here, can you talk?”

“2 minutes Algenald!”

“Security has tracked these guys to the old pier in Grand Bassam. They’ve just arrived and think they safe,” and he rang off. Well the call had been under 2 minutes.

Algenald then picked up the phone to the EU and Africa Minister, “Algenald Matthews here, we have finally traced this crew to the old pier in Grand Bassam. I thought you would like to know?”

“Not interested, Algenald. My French connections are sick of hearing about the antics of this crew you launched, and I have had, nothing but embarrassment excusing their antics as they made fools of the people I have to deal with. You told me these were a bunch of idiots, yet to-date they have outsmarted you, the Security Services and made the PM, virtually vote Labour.”

“It should not be too much trouble for your contacts to take their boat out and we have them.”

“Algenald, my contacts would not touch this bunch if I personally paid the French Government. This mess was created by your Department and you have proved beyond all doubt that your Department has lost control of an armed group of people now somewhere in West Africa and your saying that you know where they are now, is not something you tell me, tell it to the Ivory Coast and the PM!”

The phone slammed down again as a lot of phones were doing recently and Algenald Matthews promised himself his Aide would come to a very sticky end when it could be arranged and now he had to depend on Roger.

Having slammed the phone down on Algenald Matthews, Jacob Christie was immediately on the phone to his French connections telling them that he had found where the boat was.

Chapter 9 Only Hardships

We finally settled down by the old pier, completely enclosed by trees with a sandy path back from the pier and only a couple of hundred yards through sand to meet the road connection, with a landing on the other side of the trees where the ‘V’ could drop us off, so it looked a nice spot but the small islands to the right were worrying since anything could come in on a shallow draught as the sand bank and bars made the water only deep enough for a short distance through a channel out and then turning into mid lagoon. You would need an inflatable if you fancied exploring there. Mr Hoo waved to me, “What’s the problem, Mr Hoo?”

“A boat followed us from Abidjan until they knew where we are berthed. An attack from the lagoon could come from the Islands on the right, land attack by boat from the sandy beach near the trees or both at once. We will moor out tonight, so they can’t jump us from the pier or we get all three attacks at once.”

“There is an area just down from the bridge, with a gap for protection and one way in, I think. Deep enough to anchor and squeeze through, no other way to get near us and we can anchor in the middle with jungle either side, just the front way in. There are a couple of small inlets to the right but they have to come around the outcrop. Let’s get the guys together and we’ll take this bunch on, on our grounds.”

We crossed the water with enough power to squeeze through the hole, like a cork in a bottle moving to the left into a bit of water. Benny and Irish got the ‘V’ off the davits into the water and hid down towards the Jetty. They had the same guns, so I decided to stay with mine as they can see in the dark, target with lasers and infra-red, watching any boats coming towards us.

We waited for a few hours, then Irish’s radio, “there are several small boats just on the other side of the barrier and that they seemed to be making for an entrance further up towards the pier and on the other side of the outcrop, whilst 2 boats are coming towards the entrance we used. I had an RPG stuffed into my hands by Mr Hoo with instructions … “point and fire once they get through, it doesn’t matter if you hit them, just hope we get the right distance to frighten them with the RPGs.”

Moving the boat had given us the element of surprise, as they didn’t know we were waiting, and our RPGs just miss their boats and hit the outcrop lighting up the area. At the same time Irish and Benny opened up with short bursts and we heard rather than saw shots aimed at where we should have been in the dark but Mr Hoo seemed frozen, standing there with his mouth open, leaving the Major and Scooter firing rockets at anything, lighting up the outcrop like Guy Fawkes night and lighting up the boats coming around the top, giving me a chance at them with the RPG.

Irish and Benny moved the ‘V’ in behind the two boats that had come through the gap and Irish, once again left their boats without engines. He was getting fairly proficient with this while the Major and Scooter were finding the range on the new boats, but we still needed to move further away as Mr Hoo, frozen with the good fight still stood there and finally by shaking Mr Hoo by the scruff of the neck he put the boat into electric and took us left away from the attack.

Scooter and the Major had destroyed the nearest boats still afloat with Pirates diving overboard and swimming to the burning outcrop, with Benny now taking the ‘V’ through the gap for Irish, who had Benny’s automatic to shoot up the lagoon with Scooter and the Major were still looking for other boats around to aim at.

We used the radar, searching for any more boats and finding none moved to the jetty further down in case of another attack. It could have been two sets of Pirates attacking but loosing several boats and people after we had just arrived, would hurt but they had put together boats and 30 people to hit us, within hours of our arriving, which was definitely the wrong side of good!

We had also learnt Mr Hoo might be good an organising, hitting things head on if they were small enough, but you needed the Major for the tactics only a coward could produce.

Mr Hoo just froze when the guns started while the Major and Scooter went for their throats from a distance. I left the Major, who seemed to have got some respect back, arguing in the cabin with Mr Hoo, helping Irish and Benny to bring the ‘V’ back on board. Benny immediately leapt off to check his engines with Mr Hoo and the Major still arguing. Any ability to hide was certainly wasted anyway, as they screamed and shouted at each other.

In a moment of weakness, I agreed, after Benny asked, “would it be easier to park at the new Jetty?”

“Anything would be easier than this, listening to them still screaming their heads off,” I said, “head up to the jetty.”

Any ability I had to think positively of Benny and the Major was severely tested the next morning when we found the boat moored against the Jetty, Benny gone, and no-one in the cabin as the Major was asleep in his bunk.

Luckily the Police Station wasn’t that far away from the ‘No-Limit’ Nightclub and both were reachable from where Benny had parked us. Using Francs, Benny had hoarded, plus dollars we didn’t know about Benny had relieved his feelings at the club, and attempted to relieve other feelings elsewhere, which had attracted attention and a Police cell for Benny.

By the time we arrived at the Police Station, Mr Hoo and the Major had argued some structure of command between themselves thus reducing our stock of francs even more, as they both went to get Benny out of his evening’s entertainment.

Mr Hoo offered the Policeman dollars, after the Major offered francs and sterling, leaving the Policeman a lot richer, nicer and Benny a lot less downtrodden until we got him back on-board the boat, and us a lot poorer after their ego clash.

Benny had never been in a battle like that, and I doubted if he would have one like the one again we gave him back on the boat.

Most of the time, Irish said, “Benny was firing up in the air”, but Irish was quiet decent about it and said Benny just didn’t have the ‘bravo’ in him unless it with women, so his escapades and our paying well over the top to get him out, weren’t taken too badly as everyone considered Benny to be an ‘easy going idiot’, who you couldn’t really rely on.

He had been blooded and suffered for last night’s activities but we would not be staying at the jetty any longer and moved back to the old pier, where at least we were berthed away from the shore, with no easy way for Benny to get to the club as we were on the other side of the water but that left us vulnerable to attacks from land in 2 positions and easily attacked from the Comoe area, so once again we sat by the pier drawing attention to ourselves, as sitting ducks.

We needed to find somewhere else to berth as the pier had been an easy decision providing no-one knew we were there, which was foiled as they now knew but we needed to find somewhere else we could berth and the best idea was to let Mr Hoo, the Major and Benny go looking for it.

Benny had already used 2 jerry-cans to top up the ‘V’ and would cruise looking for somewhere to stay, with Benny staying with the boat while the Major and Mr Hoo also collected more petrol, before they went looking. This raised the issue of Benny being alone on the ‘V’, so Irish was detailed to stay with Benny leaving myself and Scooter with the boat. Benny had at least taught Scooter how to start the engine. I had a H&K USP with me plus a taser and the knife, so we had some defence if anyone tried anything. Scooter wondered off and came back with an RPG, some rockets and the rest took off in the ‘V’ leaving us sat there.

Simon existed in Mansion Block 1, Flat 58 close to the Earls Court end of Chelsea.

He checked out his regular train as much from boredom as anything. The train ride and the regulars were routine but two now stuck out as ‘sore thumbs’ … one who never looked up from his paper, with the other staying by the door got off at Sloan Square.

On his return that night, they were there again, so he deliberately went past Gloucester Road.

He crossed over the platform and sat waiting for the next train back for about 10 minutes.

He felt he was being tracked by a team who knew where he lived he had no doubt, or he was going paranoid, so it was good to let them know he knew, if they existed and he finally decided to walk from Earls Court.

Walking through Earls Court was something that was lifeblood to him, the lights, music, fast food, pubs … that was why he stayed at the Earls Court end of Chelsea, with Fulham Road close by. He didn’t need to think about the lack of excitement of his job …. there wasn’t any … his job didn’t really exist apart at all, apart from him sitting there reporting on Algenald Matthews to his superiors of which there seemed to be a lot.

The only excitement was in the air of Earls Court and they could take his job, roll up into a ball and stuff it up the Minister’s ample backside as far as he cared.

He knew the route home and didn’t bother to check whether he was being followed. It didn’t matter. They could take him any time they wanted and it would be a release.

He didn’t wish that he had another career, but the crooks had taken over the Prison and now all the racketeers worked in Politics.

The Block didn’t have the grandeur or anything, but at least he was back in civilisation and soon a shower, couple of beers and Gloucester Road.

As he reached his block he started popping mints into his mouth marching across the prison exercise yard, but on the money he had left he could just afford a cell.

He often promised himself a flat in a block by the river but the MP’s had the flats down there on MP's expenses, while he got some old Liberty Block following his divorce stripping him of every penny but he took her debts just to get rid of her and now he got the Prison Block 1 cell which was usually solitary confinement as any girl looking at the walk between Blocks 3 and 2 made an excuse and ran.

Still, sucking mints in case his breath reached the adjoining blocks was necessary where curtains waved like semaphores as the old ladies filled the time in waving their pension books in signal code.

Roger needed a couple of stiff ones as he thought about Mark Stephens, Jimmy Mackintosh, and Sasha Gomez, much against his better judgement. Antona knew it was a business weekend and would happily stay in the background keeping all the parties from fighting until they settled down to the meeting.

Roger left his car out the front and having given his wife a kiss, headed for a Hine brandy, closely followed by another to stop it feeling lonely. He finished his second brandy and moved to the Library to find his wife, “What amazing feast have we laid on for everyone tonight, dear?”

“Nothing that special Roger. Cook took the easy way out, buying a large chicken and a large piece of beef. The chicken I think is being cooked Chasseur Style with shallots, butter, mushrooms, cognac and the beef was a red wine marinate, runner beans, new potatoes, cauliflower cheese, podded peas and that was, I think, the main course menu. Tomato Soup for starters with brandy and chocolate pudding for the sweet. Stilton, Brie, Cheddar and some French runny cheese for non-sweet eaters She has kept it fairly simple and they should be able to move afterwards but not too well, ripe for your brandy and cigars to see them fit be tied.”

“Fine, I’ll head for a shower, change and I should have time to catch up on some correspondence. Any calls I need to return?”

“No. It’s been a very quiet day that way, but I do need you to have a word with Amand. One of his friends has been arrested by the Police on drug charges and I don’t want whoever it is in this house. I don’t think Alisea is involved but you might have a word with them when they get back on Monday to make sure, and insist that they do not bring this person into the house!”

“I’ll sort it Antona. Now I’ll have that shower and get ‘today’ off me.”

The dinner sounded good … enough variety … yet simple and easy to prepare.

He stood there enjoying the fierce battering from the pressure nozzle beating his day into retreat. There was something good about an evening shower before dinner and especially after a couple of good Hine brandies. It allowed you to glow, forget the day and the pressure.

He knew Antona seemed worried and not just about the kids.

Money she had been used to seeing arrive every month without fail, wasn’t arriving.

Buying Algenald Matthews’ gambling debts had been a gamble in itself since he couldn’t really afford them. Algenald was the only resalable target for them, if he used them … then if Algenald couldn’t pay them, no Court would enforce them and he had thrown a lot of money away, but he needed something tangible to pressurise Algenald with and it was all he could think of, but it was a risky strategy.

He headed back to the Library to go through the correspondence. Antona knew better than to even open this mail and despite her playing the ‘empty headed wife’ he knew there was a law degree in that head and she knew he was involved in illegal operations even if she claimed she couldn’t understand his business. He produced the mobiles from his safe and listened to the messages. Well hopefully tonight, they could make some headway.

Arriving back in the kitchen he found Antona and Cookie discussing table placements.

He and Antona would take top and bottom spots. Sasha was a bit too excitable to put opposite Algenald Matthews, so Mark Stephens would sit opposite Sasha and Jimmy Mackintosh would sit opposite Algenald Matthews. Sasha’s ego was a major problem and it would take very little for his temper to erupt although a word before they started might help since Sasha had derailed more than a few meetings with his explosive temperament and an early cocktail from Albert … Cook’s husband might be a good way to break down any troubles before they wheeled them into dinner but he made it a point to mention to Cook where he wanted places set, before they went in with Sasha and Algenald on opposite sides of the table … he hoped Sasha did not forget the cutlery was there for the food after another unfortunate episode when he started hurling knives and forks across the table at Mark Stephens and he would need Albert behind Sasha’s place until the meal was finished.

“Everything seems to sorted Antona, just about time for the blood letting and I know you don’t like Mark but please try and keep him in a good mood, I need those Associates of his in West Africa and keep him off Algenald’s throat, although given a choice I’d let him have Algenald for breakfast and pay his bill for cleaning up.”

“Roger you know Sasha, Mark and I get on like a fox looking for a plump hen. I am not one of Sasha’s Russian women no matter what he thinks and Mark is loud-mouthed, aggressive, abusive and over-bearing. ‘Good Evening’ is about the best you can hope for from him and that is with a sneer!”

“I need Algenald’s people in Africa neutralised to get the cash flows moving again and Mark is all I have to work with. Mark and Sasha can’t stand each other at the best of times and Sasha for a Spaniard, always astonishes me with his liking for Russian women, but if he turns up with one tonight, I’ll slaughter him. We can get around the rest of problems by shipping oil to China with the money routed via Africa, but not with a bunch of out-of-control idiots wiping out our Associates in West Africa. We’ve had problems enough with this bunch, never mind the rest.”

“I suppose Roger I should be wearing a low cut dress decking out the flesh for their titillation and as the meeting is oil based perhaps I should wear my ‘Diesel’ tonight?”

`“Jeans and check shirt, Antona. With luck they will attack each other, storming off in a huff and we have the weekend to ourselves!”

Roger headed to the master bedroom, strapping tight a very large US Rodeo belt around his ever increasing waist and jeans with a bandanna around his ever increasing neck for the Rodeo look, when he heard a car approaching. Antona after his objections would not be putting the family jewels on display.

He made his way to the front door to welcome his first guest and as the car drew up out walked Sasha minus Russian company … a blessing.

Antona couldn’t stand him, full-stop, and showed it but she couldn’t stand most of the people he dealt with which was fair enough. Roger met Sasha at the door to, “where is that arsehole ‘Algenald’,” from Sasha.

“Put your temper away or go now, Sasha. If you can’t be professional then just go, I don’t need tantrums tonight, just solutions!”

“You need me, Roger, I have made us a fortune!”

“You have been part of a chain giving the Nigerians a way to milk their own country with Jimmy laundering the money to pass on to you … this is a team Sasha that makes us all rich and I don’t need your crap since Jimmy allowed our transactions to get traced and so far, has failed to find new routes, leaving us with these problems as you enriched yourself by double-crossing and betting on the oil market before the Piracy which aroused attention of some kind of link between the hijacks and your speculation!”

“Who is giving you this bullshit Roger? I have not taken a penny more than my share!”

“Your greed, Mark and Algenald’s incompetence were the ‘pulling factors’ in the CIA starting to get involved because you could not just take a cut, Algenald could not be bothered to find out what his employees were doing and Mark took his eye off the ball and got ‘cocksure’. You all tried to milk everything so much the three of you have blown the entire operation unless we can change things!”

“The money was there Roger. I took the ‘shit’ along with ‘the bull’ and I made money out of it, but so did the rest and you. You and Algenald are the ones who over-extended themselves and got greedy, I didn’t!”

“Without Mark and Jimmy you could not find your backside with both hands, with your conning and stealing, playing your temper games, which means someone will be stood behind you all night if necessary and the table is wide enough for your feet to stay on your side, so you don’t try kicking people again because I do not need your ego and self-importance destroying yet another meeting. Why you couldn’t just take a cut instead of destroying everything playing the oil markets coinciding with the tankers getting hijacked, I will never know?”

“I look forward to seeing your ‘lovely wife’ Roger!”

“I look forward to someone seeing your lovely children Sasha, how many do you know of now from your Russia women?”

Sasha found himself being accompanied to bedroom 3 and Roger headed back to the Bar Room … if that was the first he had to deal with, he would not be sober when the last arrived. Roger had just finished his first re-enforcement drink when the bell went and he eventually opened the door to Jimmy Mackintosh, “Good Evening Jimmy. Pleasure to see you. You don’t visit Antona and myself enough?”

“Always a pleasure, Roger.”

“I am sure the evening will become interesting, Jimmy. Please come inside and you will be shown to your room.” Two down and he needed another large Brandy, before the next.

The door bell resounded again, “Good evening Algenald.”

“I need to discuss what you are up-to Roger? I have had enough of you slamming phones down on me and refusing to take calls.”

“When you have something intelligent to say Algenald you will find me all ears but at the moment I don’t hear anything worth listening to, from you and if you are going to continue this evening as you are starting it then turn around and save everyone from your characteristics. Either behave or go back out through that door … you don’t impress anyone here and I have enough trouble over your Department’s antics and their affect on the rest of my colleagues. Albert will show you to your room if you wish to stay?”

Now all he needed, was Mark Stephens tanked up with some women he had picked up. Mark was ideal to deal with Pirates having spent his life out in Africa and Alfred Stephens kept good International relations, which were as corrupt as Alfred was, but when accurately described, you would call Mark an infantile, egotistical, stupid prick and it needed Alfred to control him and Alfred had been invited tonight but later for after Mark started, if Mark actually bothered to turn up.

As he left the door, he heard the snarl of a car and opened the door to see Mark swerving across the drive in a sports car, with three girls. Mark picked up women as cheaply as he could, since he father restricted his money, but when you match an expensive car to another quick temper, as Mark did, you ended up with the spoiled brat that Mark was. He opened the door with Mark wearing 3 women with his usual aplomb, said, “allow me to introduce my valets, please arrange their quarters my man, I made need them later!”

The door stayed barred by Roger, “This is an important meeting and you are drunk.”

“Just a couple Roger, ‘Old Chap’, but my chauffeur got me here and she will ensure I am in bed before ‘lights out’, so if you would be so kind, please ‘show my staff to their Apartments’.”

Before Roger blew completely, Antona appeared, “Good Evening Mark. I see you are still trying to introduce women into my house that I choose not to allow in. I don’t want any stray women you have picked up brought into my house after the last time, so take them away!”

“There’s no need to be nasty, Antona, I was just trying it on … always a good wheeze to try on Roger!”

“You’ve taken up my time and Roger’s turning up drunk with women you have picked up and I am sick and tired of Roger associating with you and I will ring your father and tell him so. I am sure that there are other people who are ‘Professional and Sober’ Roger can work with!”

“Ring my father, Antona! I don’t do everything he says!”

“You don’t tell your father that Mark. That is why we have the situations we do, because you can not see higher than between a woman’s legs and you can’t even aspire to that! So leave your baggage outside the door and my staff will move the non-human elements to your room. I suggest you pay the rest of your luggage off now, because if I see one of them in the house I will call the Police not your Father, but I will call him now because we need you sober and he can do that which should stop you destroying other people’s time with your antics!”

Roger headed for the Bar Room meeting the Cook on-route who was bringing the Coffee Pot and Cups, “I hope it’s good and strong, Cookie. Mark has certainly put a lot down before getting here and so had that woman who was driving his car?”

“This will sober him up, Sir. I have brewed it black, strong and sweet, which is how he apparently likes it in Africa.”

“I don’t care about his habits in Africa, just as long as your husband gets rid of those women?”

“Albert is pretty good at those kind of issues. He explained that if they didn’t want a taxi then his instructions were to call them a Police Car and point out who was driving Mark’s car. That quietened them down and they went like ‘church mice’, but rich ones I would guess and not Mark’s usual cheap mixture.”

Cookie made her way out of the room and Roger poured himself another ‘kidney destroying’ brandy while he waited for Sasha, Mark, Algenald and Jimmy to come down.

He didn’t have long to wait before Mark burst through the door demanding a large brandy, “I am not topping you up again, Mark. I need you sober tonight and I’ve told you that. We need to know, what went wrong? The last I heard we had lost nearly 6 boats apart from those shot up and unusable plus 12 dead and 8 wounded and you can’t even be bothered to be out there or to update us, despite being paid to do so.”

“I am sure my father knows, Roger. He know every big-wig in the area and the crews don’t report to me, they report to locals, who report to his contacts, who report to him … I get updates on a by-the-way basis.”